


Magnet

by mira (stellamira)



Category: Actor RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 22:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellamira/pseuds/mira
Summary: Jensen is egoistic, stubborn, and he smokes too much. Still Jared, while struggling with his own issues, just can't stay away.





	Magnet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Supernatural Spring Fling](https://spnspringfling.livejournal.com)

The air outside is fresh and cool. Jared gulps in huge mouthfuls of it, waiting for his heart rate to slow and his head to stop pounding.

Coming here was a mistake. But with his roommate's insistence and his mother's voice in his head – "Jared, honey, you need to get out more, make some friends!" – he'd relented. Of course what his mother had meant were church groups and bible studies, not some seedy bar a couple of blocks from campus with a lax carding policy.

He regretted it as soon as they'd stepped in, the bar packed with students and other folk on a Friday evening. It was loud and stuffy, and people kept bumping into him, even if he stood a head taller than most and really shouldn't have been missed. He tried to blend in, got himself a drink and all, but the feeling of being suffocated grew, crushed his lungs and squeezed his throat. He ignored an _Employees only_ door and at least one shouted "Hey!" to stumble out here and finally breathe again.

He's in a narrow back alley, fenced in with a chained gate, cigarette butts lining the area around the door. Probably the place where employees come for a smoke break.

The door opens and someone steps out, pausing as they notice Jared bent over with his hands on his knees.

"Hey, you okay?"

Jared doesn't react, hoping the guy will get a clue and leave him alone.

"C'mon, man, you're worrying me."

Jared finally looks up. It's the bartender who served him earlier, the one Jared could barely look in the eyes when he ordered his rum and coke.

"'m fine."

"Uh huh." The guy looks unconvinced. His lashes are long and dark. "You gonna puke?"

"No." At least he wasn't, until the guy mentioned it. Now he feels queasy.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-t-two."

The guy snorts. "Yeah right. Try again."

"Nineteen," Jared admits. He half expects to be thrown out now, but the guy only studies him for a bit, then pulls out a pack of cigarettes, tilting it in Jared's direction. His fingernails are painted black, chipped in a few places.

"You want one?" he asks and shrugs when Jared shakes his head.

It should be awkward, standing outside like this, not talking, listening to the faint thump of the bass inside. Jared has never smoked, doesn't like it when others do, but the guy is strangely attractive leaning against the brick wall and blowing the smoke from his lips. Jared's gaze is inevitably drawn to him, and the guy looks back unashamedly.

He flicks the stub to the ground to join the others when he's done, then rolls his shoulder along the wall, faces Jared. He reaches up a hand to touch Jared's cheek. "You're gorgeous, you know."

Jared ducks his head, embarrassed, but suddenly there are lips on his own mouth, on his cheek, under his ear.

"Let me blow you?"

Jared just closes his eyes, leans his head back against the wall and gets sucked off right there, warm mouth and a clever tongue working him over until he's helpless to come in a burst of pleasure.

*-*-*

Jared's not going to call. He is not. He had to scroll through his whole contact list – mostly family or people from church back home that he hasn't talked to in ages – to find the unfamiliar name.

_Jensen_.

It's an unusual name, but Jensen's an unusual guy. After he'd tucked Jared back into his pants he stood up, pressed against him. Jared tried to reach down a shaky hand, but Jensen caught it, sucked two fingers straight into his mouth. The inside of his cheek was slick, coated with Jared's spunk; Jared stroked it carefully as Jensen rubbed himself off against Jared's thigh.

Afterwards he fished Jared's phone from his pocket, programmed his number into it.

"Call me if you want to do this again," he whispered after a last kiss, but Jared isn't going to. Instead he's going to delete the number, call his momma, go to church tomorrow and pray for forgiveness.

Jensen picks up after the third ring, and the smile is evident in his voice.

*-*-*

Jensen's place is tiny. Barely enough space for a bed and a dresser, the couch crammed in front of the TV. The kitchen consists of two hot plates and a microwave. Jensen takes him up a couple of stairs, though, and through a locked hatch up onto the roof.

"Don't tell my landlady," he says. "I swiped the key from her and made a copy."

They're not in the city center, so a few stars are visible, and it's warm enough for Jensen to unfold two lawn chairs that they drop into. Jensen chain-smokes his way through a pack of cigarettes as he listens to Jared. He doesn't say anything when Jared stumbles over his words, when he stutters or has trouble finishing his sentences.

"Shit." Jensen laughs when Jared tells him about his family. "You're the son of a preacher man."

"S-shut up," Jared says, tired of the Dusty Springfield jokes. "What about your people?"

Jensen blinks up at the stars, inhales from the cigarette between his fingertips. He dangles his arm over the armrest of the chair to grind it out on the roof's gravel, then turns to Jared, puts his mouth on Jared's throat. His tongue is soft and wet between Jared's collarbones, and Jared wants it on other, lower parts of his body. He wants –

He's never sucked a guy's cock, never even allowed himself to think about it, but he wants it now. The smell, the taste, the feel. He slips clumsily to his knees because he doesn't know how else to ask for it.

Jensen helps him take his pants off, his dick already half-hard in the cradle of his thighs. With Jensen's low guidance, he takes it in his mouth, slowly licks at the head. He's not good at it, probably not even passable, but Jensen lets him try out what he likes, hisses when Jared's not careful enough with his teeth. He ends up coughing and sputtering when Jensen comes with no warning at all, feels dirty and proud of the come on his lips, having given someone pleasure like that.

Jensen's thumb rubs over the milky drops that have escaped. "Oh baby," he sighs, "what am I gonna do with you."

*-*-*

"You know, Genevieve asked after you after church on Sunday," his mom says. As usual, he can hear her puttering around in the background, likely cleaning or sorting laundry like every Saturday. "Maybe you can give her a call the next time you're home?"

He wants to tell her that he will, he'll call Genevieve, take her out to dinner and a movie, ask her father for her hand and have five children with her, make her happy. But then he thinks about Jensen, about his green, green eyes, and the way they closed when he sank down on Jared's cock last night, how tight he was and how hot inside. How Jared left deep scratches on Jensen's hips, holding on so hard.

The words get stuck in his throat, and he listens to her chatter instead.

"Love you, momma," he whispers before he hangs up.

*-*-*

When Jared gets to Jensen's, there's someone already there. A guy who looks at least fifteen years older than Jared, with a beard. He's sitting on the couch like he belongs there, smoking a joint that he passes to Jensen as Jensen curls up next to him.

"Hey kid," the guy says. "You want a hit?"

"He doesn't smoke, Jeff," Jensen says as he gives the joint back, waving Jared over. "C'mere." He still tastes of weed as they kiss.

When they stop, Jeff's hand is there on Jensen's neck, and Jared watches the easy way Jensen turns so Jeff can fit their mouths together, exhaling the smoke as Jensen breathes in.

It's awkward and surreal and so hot all at once. Jensen is the only one who takes off all his clothes, spread out on the couch with his legs hanging over the armrest. Jared startles at the sound of the lube being uncapped, tries not to stare at Jeff's condom-covered cock bobbing from the fly of his jeans while he spreads Jensen open. Jensen's head tilts back when Jeff finally slides slowly inside. Sweat glistens on his neck, and he tugs on Jared's thighs, mutters, "C'mere," again.

It's hard, keeping his dick in Jensen's mouth as Jeff fucks him so deep the couch creaks, but it doesn't take much more than a couple of sucks anyway for Jared to spill over Jensen's face. Jensen's tongue comes out to lick up what he can, and Jared staggers back a step.

He barely stays long enough to watch Jensen jerk himself off and for Jeff to finish inside of him before he makes up an excuse about having to study and stumbles down the stairwell, through the front door, into the sunshine outside, where people walk their dogs, and go grocery shopping, and children laugh, as if nothing has happened at all.

*-*-*

He sees Jensen on campus. Jared's coming from the library with an armful of books, eyes carefully on the ground in front of him so he doesn't fall – he did fall, in his first week, and sat on the ground with his face burning with shame for a minute before he found the strength to get back up – when he hears someone laugh.

Jensen has his arm around a red-headed girl, smiling with her as she talks, just a couple of yards away. Jensen's gaze flicks over to where Jared has stopped in his tracks; Jared can see the dawning recognition, the way his steps slow – but then the girl tugs at Jensen's shirt, steers him in another direction.

Jared keeps on walking to his dorm.

*-*-*

Jared tries to imagine what Jensen sees as he studies Jared's half of the dorm room, the bare walls, the meticulously made bed. It's been weeks since Jared called him, even if his finger hovered over the name countless times. Jensen hasn't given him a word of apology, but of course Jared let him in anyway, has been hovering behind him like a kid desperate for approval.

His phone rings while Jensen's finger runs along the spines of the books on Jared's shelf – sorted by theme and author's name – and he picks it up.

"Hi, honey, you've got some time?"

He turns his back on Jensen. "Sure, momma."

It's when his mom tells him of his sister's success with her lacrosse team that he feels Jensen's hand slide under his shirt from behind. It's a good thing that his mom is used to one-syllable answers from him because all coherent thoughts stop once Jensen rids him of his boxers, then drops down behind him. Suddenly there's a tongue going where nothing ever should, and it feels as much wrong, wrong, wrong as it does amazing. His legs shake, and he has to let Jensen bend him over the bed like a whore or risk splitting his head open when his knees buckle under him. He comes like that, with his fist stuck in his mouth and his momma telling him hi from his dad, who'd love to talk to him but is at a church seminar all weekend.

Jensen opens the window to smoke out of it while Jared is lying in his own wet spot, too boneless to move.

*-*-*

The nights are getting colder, but Jensen still insists on the roof, putting up the two lawn chairs, then straddling Jared on his.

"Why won't you talk about your family?" Jared asks as Jensen sucks on his neck.

Jensen ignores him and licks over the budding mark.

Jared gets a hand into his hair, tugs lightly to make him look up.

"Leave it," Jensen growls.

"But –"

"Christ." He climbs off of Jared and sits in his own chair, fishing for the pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "None of your fucking business." He's pissed.

Jared lies in his chair for a long time, choosing his words carefully. Eventually, he gets up, his heart pounding. "I know I've got issues, Jensen," he says. "But at least I'm admitting them to myself."

Jensen snorts. He's done with his first cigarette, goes for the next.

Jared rips the pack out of his hand, throws it over the edge of the roof as hard and as far as he can. "And stop smoking so much. That shit will kill you."

*-*-*

On a whim, he googles Jensen's name that night. It pops up on a couple of websites, with words like "conversion camp" and "survivor", and Jared sits with his hand in front of his mouth for a long time, reading.

*-*-*

Jensen's wearing jeans and a shirt when he answers the door. A small square patch is sticking out from under his left shirt sleeve. He shuffles in for Jared to follow and leans against the couch, bracing his hands on the back of it.

Jared brought a notebook with him. It's for organizing his thoughts, because if he doesn't, then he'll forget half of what he wants to say. He wrote down each sentence in block letters. Now, looking at Jensen, he finds he doesn't even need it.

"I want to keep doing this," Jared says, "But I don't want to share you with someone. I don't want you to screw around while I'm on the phone. I want you to fucking acknowledge me when you meet me on the street. I want –" He takes a breath, the thought slamming into him so suddenly it ratchets up his pulse and leaves his pants too tight. "I want to tie you up."

Jensen looks at him with an unreadable expression; it's driving Jared fucking nuts. Then he closes his eyes briefly, licks his lips. "'Bout time you spoke up." He turns around, offers his wrists crossed behind himself.

Jared marches him to the bed and fucks him with his hands tied in the small of his back till Jensen is begging to come.

*-*-*

"I want a date a week," Jared says. He's on his back with Jensen tucked close to his side, Jensen's head on Jared's shoulder. "A real date. Lunch, dinner, going to the zoo, whatever."

"Ok, deal." Jensen plucks at Jared's nipple.

"No, wait. Make that two dates a week. At least. And I want to hold hands with you when we're going out. And for New Year's you're taking a week off, and we're taking a trip somewhere."

"Christ," Jensen mutters. "Give the boy an inch…" He doesn't say anything else, though, and falls asleep right there, breathing softly.

Jared lies awake for a long time, staring at the dark ceiling. Happiness spreads inside of him, out from his heart, until he can feel it in his toes.

 

The End.


End file.
